Limbo in Oblivion
by Whisper Through Leaves
Summary: Set shortly after Season 1 Episode 8, just a brief drabble into my take on Alex's thoughts and feelings and how certain people help her cope. Note: contains GALEX and some disturbing themes. R&R please, first fic!


She stood, standing in the doorway, silent, a hum of activity around her. The impatient click of the typewriter, the shuffle of papers, the shrill ring of the telephone. All in her periphery, untouchable. She was floating between worlds, stuck in a time loop, a wanderer in space, a lost soul. So far from normality, from familiarity, from home. Or was she? Home? Where was that? She didn't know.

Silently, she moved towards her desk, her legs feeling disconnected, separate to her body. As if they weren't her own. As her jacket slowly slid down her arms, this has to be real doesn't it? No of course it doesn't. Real is not here. But how did she know?

Staring blankly at her desk, all her things just as she left them, save the brown manila folder slung haphazardly in the middle. A new case. A distraction. For her. Something to sweep all past events underneath the carpet with, as though it all never happened. Did it happen? Again? Yes. No. This wasn't real. A figment.

Lifting her gaze, searching, she found them, boring into her, electric blue, they pierced right through her. It hurt, it can't, it wasn't real. She always found him like this now, fixed on her. Watching. As if at any moment she would shatter under his gaze into a million broken fragments. Fragile. But why? Why watch? What if she did, he couldn't save her, could he? No she was too far gone. Yet still he persisted, day on day, he watched. Her protector.

He rose, her heart beat quickened. She wanted him to come to her. To talk, to chat, to whisper, to pull her in. Her link to this world. But is that what she really wanted? To stay trapped in her mind, aimlessly roaming? Trying to make connections, tumbling into dead ends, inescapable, locked in her imagination.

He did come. She watched. Her head hurt. Her mind trying to process a thousand thoughts, voices, sounds, being ripped in two. Slowly. He leant over her desk, looked closely at her face, deep into her eyes, soulless windows into another world. She was empty. Nothing. No-one home. A lifeless body propped up by a heartbeat, a motion of an inconsequential organ, her only hope.

Silently his lips were moving, sound emitting, she heard none. The only clue, his breath, caressing her face, bathing her with his life-force. Her protector. He was watching again, waiting for a response. Nothing came. How could it? What would she say?

Sensing this, his hand raised, clutching softly at her elbow, urging her to stand. Her legs obeyed. They would, they weren't her own. He guided her, through the room, through doors, through hallways, all the while his presence at her elbow and small of her back. Her support. Her scaffold.

If people looked or stared, she didn't notice. Her vision hazy, blurred, shapes melting into each other, swimming, drowning. Like her. The wind caught her off guard, it wasn't supposed to, she wasn't supposed to feel, it wasn't real. She shivered. He moved closer. Her protector. Still watching.

As he carefully manoeuvered her into the car, she could sense it. Time floating by. She tried to grasp it. It ran away, laughing. Her hands clutched tightly, air escaping. Where were they going? She didn't know, didn't care, it didn't matter. She wanted this to end, all of it, be done. She'd given up, too exhausted, he had won. Who had won? She couldn't remember.

The car's hum slowed to insignificance, then vanished. Where were they? She didn't know, didn't recognise this world, it wasn't real. She got out of the car, her body on autopilot, her mind elsewhere, gone, unreachable. Lost. What did he want? He was watching again. She shivered. The chill was back, seizing her bones, freezing them for eternity, stuck in limbo.

He sat her on a bench, hard, cold, foreign. He waited. Time was laughing again. When would this end? Would it ever? Maybe she had to stop it? Be assertive, take control, have the last laugh. She looked out across the Thames. She could do it, her legs would, they weren't hers. She could walk to the railings, end it all now, this torment, this suffering, her mind's construction. But would it stop? She didn't know. It wasn't real.

She looked up. He was watching again. There was something else, what was it? Hiding, set deep beneath those blue orbs. There. Understanding. Recognition. He knew. That's why he brought her here. How? Did he know what she was thinking? Did he want her to go? To end it all? She searched for answers, roamed his face. Somewhere, deep inside her head, the throbbing pulsed. He wanted her to choose. Had given her the option, let her play it out, given her control.

She wanted so much to end it, all of it. But she was linked, to him, could not let him go. Her protector. The chill was crushed, forced back into oblivion. They came fast, thick, hot, drenching her cheeks. She opened her mouth, sound ripping from her throat. Something from inside her. She was alive.

Instantaneously, she was enveloped. He crushed her to him, pulling her in, never letting go. Everything dropped away, all she could feel was him. He was saving her, wrenching her back, rescuing her tentative hold on life. He was her protector, her saviour, her lifeline, her reality.


End file.
